


Hot and Bothered to Say the Least

by decembersiris



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: F/M, enjolras likes to make Éponine uncomfortable, in a good way, smug enjolras
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-07
Updated: 2019-02-07
Packaged: 2019-10-24 03:03:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 759
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17696432
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/decembersiris/pseuds/decembersiris
Summary: Flash fiction for viridescentlights, Enjolras makes Éponine uncomfortable in more ways than one.





	Hot and Bothered to Say the Least

**Author's Note:**

  * For [LearaBribage](https://archiveofourown.org/users/LearaBribage/gifts).



His breath, heavy and warm, ghosted across her face, his eyes of ice ablaze with fiery passion, and jaw set to break steel, sucked the very air from her lungs as his gaze rooted her to the floor, pressed against the wall, painted akin to wisteria. His chest heaved, the button of his chemise let loose to reveal his chest, his collarbone, up the veins of his throat, watching the apple as it slid up and down as he swallowed. It wasn’t until her eyes reached his face again, the soft line of his lips, his deep set eyes that stared down at her with ferocity, sincerity that Éponine Thénardier felt her face burn and flush.

“Remove yourself Monsieur,” Éponine said curtly, fighting to hide her agitation and discomfort.

Enjolras blinked and then smiled, tilting his head as he chuckled. The sound of his laugh surprised her, and she realized the red of cheeks had given her away.

“I haven’t made you uncomfortable, have I, _Mademoiselle_?” His eyes glistened with mischief.

“No.”

He smirked, “But I have. You think I didn’t see your eyes as of now? I know your thoughts too well.”

She hated how he stared down at her, the way his eyes made her heart pump and veins rise like she had been touched by poison. His hands pressed flat against the wall at both sides of her head which made her feel small under his shadow, his eyes, his warmth. “Remove yourself,” she said again with more conviction, “or I’ll remove you from my person.”

His lips curled into a crook. Éponine expected a reply from him, something sarcastic, something sharp to boil her blood, but instead, he pushed himself from the wall and away from her and folded his hands behind his back, that prideful grin still spread across his face. She should have left then, brushed passed him and avoided any other confrontation with the revolutionary, but instead she opened her mouth. “I’m not some shy, embarrassed maiden—“

“Not in the least,” he interjected. “You proved that very well last night.”

She glowered, her jaw tightening.

He chuckled again, stepping closer, keeping his hands behind him as he leaned close to her face again. “That look suits you, Éppie. A passionate look for one such as you. But I’d much rather another expression. I’m sure, I could kiss away that wrinkle on your brow each night. And I’d take such delight in seeing what other expressions your lovely face reveals.” His breath was on her throat, his voice low in her ear that sang sweet thrills through her nerves.

She swallowed, all too keenly reminded of last night and such tremendous emotions he had so secretly inspired. Gentle hands, sticky, wet heat, stole kisses, and glorious elation beyond all that she’d experienced prior. Éponine warmed, and her insides spun. His lips softly grazed her ear, and he had reached up to cup her neck. She could smell him, the musk of him that fogged her mind, calling back that not so distant memory so fresh in her mind. Silently, she relished it as she did his voice. His lips moved and her breathing stopped, her body curling into his warmth, his touch.

And no sooner had it began, he abandoned his hold, his spelling lifting from her, and she stood bitterly surprised as he so easily stepped away from her side.

Her anger returned with the flush of her cheeks, her chest rising and sinking, and she meant to control herself rather than give him the satisfaction of what his ministrations had so incited. She could feel his smug grin though he hadn’t shown his face.

“Don’t fret, dear Éponine,” Enjolras turned and stood before the table, gathering his papers and books, stuffing them into his bag. She saw his profile and that damned smile. “I’m honor bound to secrecy as you eagerly desire. You have nothing to fear.” He then turn his back on her again, taking his bag and readied himself to leave.

“I will not come to you tonight.” She blurted, her eyes daggers at his back.

Another low chuckle erupted deep from his within chest, and he did not look back at her as he left her to the quiet of the cafe. Éponine huffed as she stared at the door. She grit her teeth, rubbing her arms, feeling the absence of his fingers, his scent, his breath, and she shivered despite herself.

“Damn him,” she muttered, the words hanging in the air until she too left the Musain.


End file.
